ady
Roehampton; and that incident threw no light on his purposes or
motives, for he was as discreet as he was devoted, and Myra herself was
unconscious of his being anything to her save the dearest friend of her
father, and the most cherished companion of her husband.

When one feels deeply, one is apt to act suddenly, perhaps rashly. There
are moments in life when suspense can be borne no longer. And Sidney
Wilton, who had been a silent votary for more than ten years, now felt
that the slightest delay in his fate would be intolerable. It was the
ball at Montfort House that should be the scene of this decision of
destiny.

She was about to re-enter society, radiant as the morn, amid flowers and
music, and all the accidents of social splendour. His sympathetic heart
had been some solace to her in her sorrow and her solitude. Now, in
the joyous blaze of life, he was resolved to ask her whether it were
impossible that they should never again separate, and in the crowd, as
well as when alone, feel their mutual devotion.

Mr. Wilton was among those who went early to Montfort House, which was
not his wont; but he was restless and disquieted. She could hardly have
arrived; but there would be some there who would speak of her. That was
a great thing. Sidney Wilton had arrived at that state when conversation
can only interest on one subject. When a man is really in love, he is
disposed to believe that, like himself, everybody is thinking of the
person who engrosses his brain and heart.

The magnificent saloons, which in half an hour would be almost
impassable, were only sprinkled with guests, who, however, were
constantly arriving. Mr. Wilton looked about him in vain for the person
who, he was quite sure, could not then be present. He lingered by the
side of Lady Montfort, who bowed to those who came, but who could spare
few consecutive words, even to Mr. Wilton, for her watchful eye expected
every moment to be summoned to descend her marble staircase and receive
her royal guests.

The royal guests arrived; there was a grand stir, and many gracious
bows, and some cordial, but dignified, shake-hands. The rooms were
crowded; yet space in the ball-room was well preserved, so that the
royal vision might range with facility from its golden chairs to the
beauteous beings, and still more beautiful costumes, displaying with
fervent loyalty their fascinating charms.

There was a new band to-night, that had come from some distant b